Charming
by w1nter
Summary: Returning to Hogwarts after the war as an 'eighth-year' student, Hermione is surprised to see Draco Malfoy has returned too. He's an ex-Death Eater, after all. But there's something different about him now, and she's about to find out what. EWE. Complete at last! :D
1. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Charming

_Chapter One – Aboard the Hogwarts Express_

_**Disclaimer: **__Need I even say that I don't own it?_

~oOo~

It felt good to be going back to Hogwarts. For the first time in years Hermione actually felt grateful to the Ministry of Magic – sending all the students that had missed out on their seventh year back to school was an excellent idea as far as she was concerned.

The only drawback so far was having to share a compartment with Draco Malfoy on the way – although, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. In fact, Malfoy had been acting rather odd. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone since they'd boarded the train, remaining huddled in his cloak in the back corner of the compartment the whole journey.

Now that both Harry and Ron had gone to get food from the trolley – clearly not thinking in their hurry to stuff their faces – Hermione was left alone with Malfoy for the time being.

She fingered her wand inside her robes somewhat nervously, wondering if he might not take it into his head to try to hex her now that he wasn't outnumbered. Although Harry and Ron apparently weren't, _she _was still suspicious of people after the war, especially ex-Death Eaters like Malfoy.

She studied him from her place by the door, but he showed no signs of wanting to attack her. The only visible part of him was some of his blonde hair protruding above the deep black of his cloak. Hermione was looking over at him, wondering why he was so unusually quiet, when he suddenly shifted, letting his cloak fall down around his shoulders and glancing up at her.

Her wariness melted away the instant she saw his face.

He was still the same Draco Malfoy she'd known and hated for the past seven years, yet there was something strikingly different about him. His hair, usually combed back or cropped short, was longer, messy – something unheard of for a Malfoy – and hung untidily around his face. His slightly pointed face was drawn and paler than usual, with the suggestion of bags under his eyes.

But what really stopped her in her tracks was the expression on that face, the emotion in those stormy grey eyes – sadness. Sure, he was still trying to maintain that mask of _hauteur_, that characteristic Malfoy smirk he'd always worn, but his feelings were showing through it.

There was no doubt about it. He was miserable.

Almost the same second he'd looked up at Hermione, he looked away again, staring at the landscape blurring past outside the window – but she'd seen it. She'd seen the vulnerable side of her ex-enemy...

And she felt sorry for him.

She took a moment to assess how weird that was. _She _was actually feeling _sorry _for the slimy little ferret that had plagued her and her friends for years. The same person that had tortured her for information during the war, who she had held at wandpoint in third year and bitch-slapped. She smiled at that memory. She pitied the boy who was sitting across the cabin from her, his profile dark against the window, the sunshine from outside dancing over the highlights in his hair, his eyelashes, his cheekbones...

_Whoa. _She shook her head to clear it, making her bushy brown hair swirl around her face. _That's taking pity a bit too far._

At that moment Harry and Ron came back, laden down with all sorts of food and sweets, so she put Malfoy out of her mind for the time being.

Then at some point her thoughts returned to the lonely boy in the corner again, and she suggested hesitantly to Harry and Ron that they offer him some food. "He's sure to be hungry, and the food trolley's long gone by now," she said quietly.

Both of her friends looked at her with some alarm. "But Hermione," Harry whispered, so that Malfoy wouldn't hear him, "this is Malfoy you're talking about! Why would you want to help _him_?"

Hermione fixed him with a hard glare. _How do I make them understand? I can tell he's not the person he once was. _"He's a human being too, Harry – and if he'd been planning to curse any of us he would have done it by now. Like when you two left me alone with him to get all this food! We've got too much anyway."

"Hermione, you're not thinking straight," put in Ron. "You can't honestly be thinking of that git as anything but an enemy. He tortured you last year! He's a _Death Eater_!"

"Ron, if he really was dangerous, why is he here? You know he wouldn't have been allowed to come back to Hogwarts if he was. He'd have been locked up, not sent back to school." _He looks anything but threatening to me_, she added to herself.

Taking their silence as defeat, she picked up a few cauldron cakes and some assorted sweets and turned to walk over to Malfoy, who was still staring out the window listlessly. He looked up suddenly when he saw her approaching, and for just a second some uncontrolled emotion showed again in those cold grey eyes – _fear? _But as soon as she thought she'd seen it, it was gone again, replaced by the hard mask once more.

He appraised her silently, giving her a look that said clearly, _Well, what are you here for? What do you want, Mudblood?_

It was clear that it was up to her to say something. "Um, we – well, I – thought that you, ah, you might be hungry..."

She internally cursed herself for sounding so unsure, as though she was asking for his permission or something. It was just stupid. She put it down to a residual uneasiness around her former enemy and waited for his answer.

Finally he nodded and reached up to take the food off her, still mute.

"You're welcome," she said tersely, and walked back to her friends. Ron had already resumed shovelling cauldron cakes and liquorice wands down his throat, and Harry was chewing on a chocolate frog and turning the card over in his hands. _Attention span of a Confunded gnome, the both of them._

Ignoring Harry and Ron, Hermione sat down and looked back at Malfoy. She saw with some amusement that he had his wand out and was waving it over his food, muttering what were obviously anti-concealment charms under his breath, testing for spells and poisons.

That was fair enough, she supposed. _Old_ _habits die hard, after all. _After having satisfied himself that Hermione wasn't trying to hex or poison him, Malfoy absent-mindedly took a bite out of a cauldron cake and resumed watching the scenery whizz by.

~oOo~

The remainder of the journey passed uneventfully, though there was a bit of a scene at Hogsmeade Station when hundreds of students saw the Thestrals pulling the carriages for the first time. That incident showed just one of the effects the war had had on people.

Then there was the Sorting and the feast. A separate, smaller 'house' table had been set aside for the eighth-years, as they weren't actually part of their old houses anymore. Harry, Ron and Hermione still clapped loudly when any first-years were sorted into Gryffindor, though. The Sorting Hat preached about change, triumph, unity and forgiveness in the aftermath of 'troubles great' – something that struck Hermione as relevant at that particular time.

After everyone had stuffed themselves almost to overflowing, Professor McGonagall – now the headmistress – sent everyone off to bed. It was then that the eighth-years realised they wouldn't be sleeping in their old dormitories. Professor McGonagall showed the eighth-years to their new dorms herself; they were situated in the West Tower of the castle, somewhere few of them had had cause to go very often in the past.

A large portrait of Merlin hanging on a seemingly random landing served as the door to the eighth-years' common room, which was decorated in the colours of all four houses and had a marvellous view of the school grounds. The boys' bedrooms were up one set of stairs, the girls' on the other.

They soon found out that everyone had a room to themselves, a luxury welcomed by most. They were equipped with ensuite bathrooms – though usually shared between two or three dorms – and each person's name on a small sign hung on their door. All these new changes of course necessitated much exploring and gossiping over... but before long sleep was deemed more important. One after the other, the eighth-years collapsed on their new four-poster beds, exhausted and fast asleep.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__Well, with this I'm starting a new ongoing fanfic. It would be really good if I could post regularly for this fic... once a week or so... but of course now that I've said that it's never going to happen since I'll be too busy to do much writing once I get back to work. _T.T_ I'll try, though. _

_Reviews are always appreciated (convince me to upload faster, I dare you), and I reply to each one! :)_


	2. From the Library to the Lake

Charming

_Chapter Two – From the Library to the Lake_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Harry Potter or anything to do with it. Unless you count a copy of all seven books and the three JK has written for charity etc... ;)_

~oOo~

Classes started the next morning, after everyone received their timetables at breakfast. Hermione was taking eight subjects, with Transfiguration, Herbology, Ancient Runes, Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. Harry and Ron were taking six; the same as Hermione but without Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

The eighth-year classes ran the same as all the other years', and everybody soon found themselves caught up in the rhythm of their schoolwork once more. After just a month everyone was already beginning to feel the pressure of their renewed workload... except perhaps Hermione.

While Harry and Ron were sitting at a table in the library on Sunday afternoon, working hard at the four-foot History of Magic essay Professor Binns had set them for Monday, she was sitting alongside them, simply reading. Every now and then Ron or Harry would ask her a question about their work, which she'd answer before turning back to her book.

"How come you're not writing yours, Hermione?" Ron asked, annoyed after having thrown aside his seventh failed attempt at his essay.

She looked up from her book to roll her eyes at him. "Maybe if you spent less time playing games and stuffing your face when you should be working, you wouldn't have four feet of History still to come up with." She pointed at herself. "Like me."

"Be fair, Hermione, we were at the Quidditch tryouts," said Harry.

She almost laughed. "And why, exactly?"

"Well, it's Quidditch, isn't it?" replied Ron, in a tone that clearly implied he wanted to add, _'DUH!'_

"But it's not like you could actually try out! You know eighth-years aren't allowed to be on the school team, just like we're not a part of our old houses anymore," she shot back.

"But we had to go, didn't we, Harry?" said Ron.

Harry nodded vigorously in agreement. "Team spirit and all that."

"Oh, come off it. You think Quidditch is more important than school – and you don't have a work ethic."

"That's what we've got you for," supplied Ron. "Who needs a work ethic when we've got you? Now, can I borrow your notes on those ruddy goblin riots so I can actually get this done?"

Both boys looked at Hermione expectantly.

She looked disbelievingly from one to the other and back again, but then a decisive frown creased her brow and she closed her book with a snap. "No."

"What?" said Harry, while Ron looked as though he'd been slapped in the face with a limp fish.

"No, I said," repeated Hermione. "I won't keep spoon-feeding you. If you're this disorganised and uncommitted to your schoolwork only a month into the year, I shudder to think about what you'll be like at N.E.W.T. time. I can't help you on your exams, so it would only be cruel to help you now. Everyone else manages their schoolwork without me, so why can't you?" And with that she picked up her things and strode off.

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other. "Must be that time of the month or something," said Ron.

Hermione heard his comment just as she walked out the door, and it only served to make her more peeved with him. How could she be expected to do Ron's education for him? Or Harry's, for that matter. But it was Ron's attitude that really got to her – it was like he took her and her constant help for granted!

_And that_, she told herself, _is exactly why a relationship between us would never work._

She decided she'd go for a walk to clear her head, so she made her way past the greenhouses and out to the Lake with her bag slung over her shoulder. The air was crisp and cold, but Hermione was glad because it made a nice change from the stuffiness of their corner of the Library.

She decided to go and sit down beneath one of the trees near the Lake... but suddenly she thought she heard someone crying. She slowed her pace and tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, but then it stopped, as though whoever it was had heard her coming and had stifled their sobs. She walked slowly from tree to tree for several minutes, but couldn't find anyone.

Just when she was about to give up and go sit down herself, she spied a dark form under an oak about a hundred metres away. She made her way over to the figure and was very surprised to find that it was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Huddled in his cloak much like he'd been on the train, his schoolbag, books and parchment lay scattered around him, and he was very much alone.

Normally, Hermione would have taken one look, realised it was Malfoy, and left, but for some reason she approached him rather than leaving the former Slytherin – and Death Eater, though she didn't think of that until much later – well enough alone. She walked up to him and wondered what she should say; he clearly didn't want to talk to her. But she was spared the necessity of thinking of something by his next words.

He let his cloak fall, looked up at her with cold, faintly red-rimmed eyes and spat, "What do you want, Granger?"

_What a good question, _she thought. _What am I even doing here? _"Well, nothing," she answered honestly. "I was just walking and I found you here."

He turned away from her and picked up a few of his books, sitting with his back to her for a few long moments. Then he turned and fixed her with a cold glare again. "What? Is there something you wanted to say?" His tone was venomous.

"Um," said Hermione. She felt confused. _Why am I even trying to have a conversation with him? _"No. Not really."

He stared at her for a moment longer, as if not quite believing that she'd just turned up to waste his time. "So piss off. I don't want to talk to you."

The funny thing was, Hermione could – again – see through his contemptuous act. Beneath that sneer hid the same miserable expression she'd seen on the train, and she wondered what caused it. So instead of pissing off like he told her to, she stood her ground and asked him another question.

"What's that you're working on, Malfoy?"

He seemed to answer purely out of surprise that she was still there and being civil to him. "History of Magic."

It had to be the same essay that Ron and Harry were still working on. "Oh, I've finished that one," she said, then surprising even herself when she continued, "I could let you borrow my notes if you want."

His response was the exact same as what Hermione was internally yelling at herself that next moment. "What?"

"Um, well, it's due tomorrow, and you've clearly got at least three feet of it to go, so I thought, maybe –"

He cut her off savagely. "I don't need help! Least of all from you, Mudblood!"

She took a step back.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said _piss off!_"

Somewhat taken aback, Hermione only said, "Okay, fine. I will. Bye." Then she turned on her heel and started the lengthy walk back to the castle, her thoughts in a mess. _I should have expected that reaction. But what was that all about? Why did I offer him help? Why did I even _talk_ to him?_

But even much later when she was back in her dormitory, she still didn't have the answers.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__Ah, you just gotta love Moody!Draco... he's so cute when he's angry, lol! Thanks for the reviews, people! Keep 'em coming - tell me how much you love or hate this... :P_


	3. Harry Has A Pensieve?

Charming

_Chapter Three – Harry Has A Pensieve?_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own the copyrights to Harry Potter. The plot to this fanfic, though, is mine! :)_

~oOo~

"Is something up, Hermione?" asked Ginny a fortnight later. They were walking through the aisles of books in the Library while Harry and Ron played a game of wizard's chess in their corner instead of working. "You've been acting a bit different lately."

Hermione looked up at Ginny and smiled. "You're perceptive, Ginny. More than people give you credit for." Then she sighed and looked away. "I'm bored, that's all."

"What, really? I guess school just doesn't compare to hunting down Horcruxes, eh?" Ginny grinned. "I bet there's nothing left to learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Defence Against the Dark Arts can be a bit dull at times, but it's not as bad as History of Magic."

In response to that, Ginny reminded Hermione forcefully of Ron, giving her the _'DUH' _look. "Um, newsflash? _Everyone _gets bored in History of Magic." Then she did a passable imitation of Professor Binns' droning voice. "It has always been thus..." She switched back to her normal voice. "...since, like, the dawn of time."

"Very funny. The thing is, I've already read the textbook."

"_All_ of it?"

"Cover to cover, about three or four times. I had a lot of time on my hands when we were hiding in our tent last year. I normally take notes, but now I have trouble just staying awake listening to Professor Binns just _talk_. Hey, stop laughing!"

Ginny was leaning against a bookcase, shaking with silent laughter. She gathered herself and managed, "You do know that everyone but you has _always_ felt like that in Professor Binns' classes, don't you?"

"Thanks for that gem of advice, Ginny, but that doesn't solve a thing. If I have to sit through Professor Binns preaching about the Third Goblin Revolution one more time I might have to pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower, or... or _something_."

"Oh, relax, Hermione. There's no need to take everything so seriously. There is, believe it or not, a solution. It comes in a box."

Hermione looked sceptical. "Really? Go on then."

But at this Ginny laughed. "No, you'll have to wait and see. I'll have some sent up." When Hermione only looked annoyed, she added, "Oh, lighten up. A few more History of Magic lessons won't kill you – I'll let you know when the owl arrives." And with that she skipped off, presumably to write a letter to whomever she was ordering the 'solution' from.

Sighing, Hermione thought she'd ask Harry and Ron what they did to keep from dying of boredom in History of Magic. She made her way over to where they had been playing chess, but they'd already left. Deciding they'd probably gone back to the eighth-years' common room, she walked off to find them.

~oOo~

A few minutes later, she was knocking on Ron's door, having ascertained that her friends weren't in the common room. There was no answer from inside Ron's room, but she tried the doorknob anyway.

It was locked.

Assuming there was no-one in there, she continued on to Harry's room and knocked on his door. There was no answer that time either, so she tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked like Ron's. She was surprised, therefore, when it gave easily – sending her lurching into the empty room, off-balance. She stumbled forward a few steps to restore her equilibrium, and there was a splash as her foot landed in a bowl of something wet.

She looked down and caught a fleeting glimpse of a rough stone basin with runes along the edges before the world dissolved around her and she was falling, falling, falling through darkness...

And then she was standing in a corridor in an entirely different part of the castle, next to Harry, who was poring over the Marauder's Map and walking away from her.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, stepping in front of him – only for Harry to walk straight through her. "What –" she started, and suddenly he crashed into a suit of armour. It clattered to the floor with an almighty racket – not before passing through Hermione first, though.

Harry looked around, alarmed, before continuing quickly along the corridor with his eyes glued firmly to the map.

And then it clicked. The basin with the runes on it that she'd stepped in – it must have been a Pensieve. And that meant that she was in one of Harry's memories. "Harry has a Pensieve?" she said aloud. _Well, apparently so. But why keep it on his floor, of all places?_

The memory-Harry had almost reached the end of the corridor, and she hurried to catch up with him. She didn't know how to get out of the memory – it was one of the few things that she'd never read about – so she decided just to follow Harry and hope for the best. Maybe she'd be transported back once the memory ended.

Harry paused outside the door to a boys' bathroom for a moment before softly pushing it open. Looking inside, both he and Hermione were met with an unusual sight.

Draco Malfoy stood with his back to them, bent over the sink, sobbing and shaking. Moaning Myrtle's voice came from one of the cubicles behind him. "Don't... Don't... tell me what's wrong... I can help you..."

"No one can help me," Malfoy replied, and Hermione realised with a shock of pity that he was crying, copious tears rolling down his pale face and into the basin. He spoke in between his sobs. "I can't do it... I can't... it won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

Hermione's heart went out to him. She knew it was all in the past, but hadn't she almost caught him crying just a few weeks ago? She'd thought she was imagining things, but now she saw that he _was_ capable of expressing raw emotions – just not to anyone else.

At that moment he looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry (and Hermione) staring at him. The next second, both boys had pulled out their wands and started flinging hexes at each other, tearing the bathroom apart with each one that missed. A lamp shattered, a bin exploded, a toilet smashed, and water spilled all over the floor. Moaning Myrtle was screaming, "No! No! Stop it! Stop! Stop!"

Then Malfoy began to cry the incantation for the Cruciatus curse, but was cut off by Harry's bellowed, "SECTUMSEMPERA!"

Hermione gasped. Blood spurted wildly from Malfoy's face and chest, and it looked to Hermione as though Harry had somehow slashed him with an invisible blade. Malfoy staggered backwards and fell limply to the saturated floor, his hands clawing at his blood-soaked chest.

"No –" said Harry and Hermione together, and they both ran over to Malfoy's stricken form. He was shaking uncontrollably and looked unhealthily pale underneath all that blood. He had lost a lot of it already. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as the red just kept pulsing out of his body.

Myrtle screeched, "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!" and a second later Snape burst in, looking ready to commit it. Pushing Harry roughly aside, he drew his wand and traced it over the deep gashes that the curse had created, while muttering a long and complicated spell under his breath several times over.

Once Malfoy's wounds appeared to have been healed – though there were still huge, bloodstained tears in his once-white shirt – Snape pulled him into a standing position. "You need the hospital wing," Snape said, and the memory faded around Hermione...

Only to be replaced by another.

This time she was standing next to a very ill-looking Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower. "Oh no," she mouthed. If her guess was correct and this was another of Harry's discarded memories from his sixth year, she knew what came next.

And it wasn't something she wanted to see.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__I used the scene from pages 488 to 489 of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, (UK children's version) in the writing of this chapter, so if some phrases seem uncannily similar to what is in the book, that's why. No copyright infringement intended – I did try to rewrite as much of it as I possibly could, but JK clearly wrote it the way she did for a reason – no rewording of what the book says sounds quite as good as the original. :)_

_That said, please read and review, as always!_


	4. The Lightning Struck Tower Over Again

Charming

_Chapter Four – The Lightning-Struck Tower All Over Again_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own the Potterverse or anything like it... but neither do you (unless you're JKR in which case you obviously do) ...anyway you know the drill; on with the story. :)_

~oOo~

Dumbledore spoke. "Go and wake Severus." His voice sounded faint. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."

Hermione knew he was talking to Harry, who was hidden underneath the Invisibility Cloak; then she heard him speak.

"But –"

"You swore to obey me, Harry – go!"

She heard Harry running toward the door that led to the spiral staircase – but then there was a louder set of footsteps on the other side of the door, and a second later it burst open as someone cried, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Hermione knew what had happened – Harry had told her and Ron, as he told them almost everything. Dumbledore had wordlessly immobilised Harry just before he himself had been disarmed, leaving Harry invisible and frozen, unable to do anything rash – but also unable to help in any way.

And there was Malfoy again, stepping forward as Dumbledore said calmly, "Good evening, Draco."

Hermione knew what was going to happen, thanks to Harry. Dumbledore and Malfoy would talk, the former trying to convince the latter to come over to the right side, the latter trying to work up the courage to kill the former. Then the other Death Eaters would come, and then Snape, who would kill Dumbledore.

Yes, Hermione now knew that he'd only done so on Dumbledore's orders, but she nevertheless had no desire to see the old Headmaster's death. Hearing about it from Harry and seeing Dumbledore's broken form at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower had been more than enough.

_I've got to get out of here_, she thought. _But how?_

Trying to ignore what was going on around her, she walked towards the door Malfoy had just come from, intending to escape from the scene and hide out in a different part of the memory-castle. She reached for the doorknob and started when her hand passed straight through it. _Damn. _She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and walked forward, intending to go through the door. She took a few steps but felt nothing, and so carefully opened her eyes.

She was still standing in front of the door. "What?" she said aloud. She tried walking forwards again, but although she was definitely walking, she just wasn't going anywhere – and she couldn't feel the wall she was trying to walk through, either. She broke into a run, but she may as well have been on a treadmill for all the progress she was making. Hermione stopped and sighed in frustration. _For some reason, that clearly isn't going to work_, she thought, and turned back around.

"We are quite alone," Dumbledore was saying. "I am more defenceless than you could have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted..."

Standing almost beside Malfoy, Hermione saw the involuntary pained expression that flitted over his fair features then – another rare show of emotion through that mask. _But perhaps emotion from Malfoy isn't as rare as it seems to be..._

Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione looked for another route of escape. _There are no other doors..._ She went to the edge of the tower and looked over the side, expecting to see the ground far beneath, but her eyes were met with only darkness. No matter how much she squinted and blinked, she couldn't see anything in or beyond it.

_It must be the edges of the memory or something_, she thought. _I'm not going to get out by just _walking _out. What now?_

Now standing beside Dumbledore, she saw how pale and pained he looked as he said, "I can help you, Draco..."

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his voice and the hand that pointed his wand at the Headmaster shaking. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice." He seemed to be bordering on tears.

Hermione took an involuntary step towards him, almost wanting to reach out and tell him he wouldn't have to do it, that he'd be okay, before stopping herself. _He's a memory here! Nothing more. Enough of this feeling sorry for him!_

"...Draco, we can hide you more completely than you can imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe for the moment in Azkaban... when the time comes we can protect him too... come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer..."

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore, seeming disbelieving. "But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly, as if trying to convince himself that the old man was wrong. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... you're at my mercy..."

"No, Draco," came the quiet response. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Malfoy was silent. His mouth hung open; his wand hand was still trembling. Hermione thought she saw it drop, just a little bit...

Suddenly four black shapes burst through the door, pushing him out of the way. _The Death Eaters._

Hermione began to panic, just a little bit. _I don't want to see Dumbledore die! How do I get out? _She closed her eyes and tried hopelessly to wish her way out; anything to escape – just as a hand came down on her shoulder. She spun around, realising it couldn't be a memory-person...

"Harry!" she cried.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, reasonably cheerfully. "What are you doing in my memories?"

At that moment Snape came through the doorway as well.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident – but please can you get us out of here? I really don't want to watch Dumbledore being killed."

"Right—" he said, just as Snape pushed past Malfoy and the other Death Eaters.

Harry gripped Hermione's arm, hard, and the world dissolved into swooping blackness around them, the memory lost from sight.

Quite suddenly, Hermione found herself back in Harry's room. Feeling lightheaded, she stumbled away from the Pensieve and sat down abruptly on the bed.

"How long were you in there, Hermione? What'd you see?" Harry asked. He didn't appear to be angry, only concerned for her.

"I'm not sure how long," she answered truthfully. "I went looking for you and Ron after you left the library, but I couldn't find you anywhere—"

"So you decided to search for us in my Pensieve?" interrupted Harry with a smile.

She gave him a playfully scathing look. "No. Your door was unlocked and I just kind of... fell in. It was an accident – I didn't mean to pry or anything."

"I believe you," said Harry simply. "I hope you didn't see anything terribly scarring," he added with a grin.

"Unless seeing you almost kill D— Malfoy with a spell you knew nothing about is considered scarring, no, not really."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, but the slimy git deserved what he got, since he was trying to kill Dumbledore. I can't believe they let a Death Eater like him back here after everything he's done."

Hermione grew stony-faced. "You really don't think he could've changed? That he wouldn't regret what he's done?"

"To quote Ron, poisonous toadstools don't change their spots, Hermione."

"I could've sworn he was thinking about it at the top of the tower in your memory."

"Well, he never acted on that, did he? This is _Malfoy _we're talking about. He'll always be the smirking Slytherin Death Eater he is."

"Ex-Death Eater, Harry."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, I'm hungry – Ron'll be at lunch already. You coming?" Hermione nodded and they left Harry's room, side by side.

Neither of them noticed the quiet figure who saw them go, appraising them from the end of the corridor with stormy grey eyes.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__I referenced most of chapter 27, 'The Lightning-Struck Tower', from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ (UK children's edition) in writing this chapter... no copyright infringement intended._

_And thanks to everyone who's been reviewing – I really love hearing which parts you liked and so on. Keep 'em coming – hit that green button down there, you know you want to... :D_


	5. Mismatched?

Charming

_Chapter Five – Mismatched?_

_**Disclaimer: **__Only the plot belongs to me, but to be quite honest I wouldn't really know what to do with ownership of the Potterverse, anyway... ;P_

~oOo~

The next day in Potions Professor Slughorn made himself unpopular.

"This week," he announced grandly to the class, "I have set you an assignment on the use of magical creatures and their products in Potionmaking. I want at least six feet of parchment on your chosen topic on my desk by Friday."

There were groans at this.

"Now, now," said Professor Slughorn. "No need to get excited. You'll be completing the assignment in pairs—" The chattering of the class rose in pitch again. "—pairs that I have allocated you, so there is no need for all that noise! I thought it would be nice to mix things up a little, so you will be working with a partner who was not in your house while you were still a part of it. I shall read out the pairs now, and no complaining! Variety is the spice of life, after all."

There were a few more murmurs and looks passed between friends. They'd heard about teachers doing this before, and it wasn't a terribly popular idea.

"Let's get started then! Ernie Macmillan will be working with Harry Potter; Ron Weasley will be working with Hannah Abbot; Neville Longbottom with Cho Chang; Hermione Granger with Draco Malfoy..."

The list went on, but Hermione didn't pay much attention to the rest. She glanced over her shoulder to see how Malfoy was taking it, but his head was bowed over his books, his fringe hanging down and concealing his expression from her.

Hermione wasn't at all sure how to feel about the new development. She probably should have felt annoyed, angry or unlucky that she'd be working with Malfoy for the rest of the week, but she couldn't really get herself to feel any of those things. After seeing him so clearly unhappy on the train, at the lake, and then falling into the Pensieve and seeing him weak, vulnerable, and every bit as sad as he appeared to be today, well... She could only feel surprise, and perhaps apprehension at having to work with him, but not dislike.

Professor Slughorn was talking again. "Now I want you to move into your pairs, and I expect you to spend the rest of the lesson deciding a specific topic to work on and so forth. No questions? Off to work, then, everyone!"

There was the scraping of chairs over the floor as people got up to move across the room. When the hubbub had died down somewhat and Malfoy still had not moved so much as a centimetre, Hermione gathered her things and her courage, then got up to sit at the empty desk next to him. Their classmates were already filling the room with the buzz of muted conversation, but between one mismatched pair there was only silence.

After an uncomfortable minute of waiting for her companion to say something – _anything_ – Hermione cleared her throat and spoke.

"So, um... have you got any ideas? For the – for our essay?"

A few more strained seconds passed before he replied coldly, "You know you'll just end up writing the whole thing by yourself anyway."

"I will not," said Hermione snappily. "It's going to be just as much your work as mine – I'll make sure of that." Another pause. "How about 'Magical Reptiles and Their Eggs' Use in Potions'? We could research Ashwinders and Runespoor to start with."

Malfoy only made a non-committal noise and looked deliberately away from her.

~oOo~

Three days later, he found himself wishing he'd taken more control in their project – maybe then he wouldn't have been sitting in the Library with Granger at lunchtime, researching some obscure lizard he didn't even want to know about.

"We've got enough information already to write at least three of these stupid essays," he whined. "Are you sure we really need to do more of this?"

She leaned around the side of a bookshelf to fix him with those deep brown eyes. Then she simply said, "Yes."

"It wouldn't kill you not to get an 'Outstanding' for once," he grumbled, loud enough for her to hear.

"Probably not," replied Hermione from behind her shelf, her voice muffled by the rows of books between them. "But on the other hand, it wouldn't kill you to actually _get _one, for once."

He rolled his eyes and resumed his leafing through _A Historian's Glimpse into the Black Market Trading of Runespoor and Their Eggs_, a tedious read to say the least. The past few days had all been like this – ever since that mouldy old armadillo Slughorn had set the assignment, it had been off to the Library in breaks and after class, every spare moment devoted to copious amounts of research and arguing about everything.

That seemed to be the only effective way for them to communicate – through near-constant verbal dodge-and-parry. This surprised Draco for a few different reasons – the first being that he and Granger could even communicate without wands drawn, the second being that he didn't actually hate talking to her.

No, worse than that. He'd actually come to enjoy their verbal swordplay... probably because it lifted him out of his usual gloom a bit, he supposed. Maybe it was just the fact that _someone_ was talking to him; he'd come to expect silence from everyone all the time, just as he'd become well acquainted with loneliness. No-one wanted to talk to a former Death Eater, much less spend time in his company.

But the word-jousting aside, if he was being entirely honest with himself, he'd be forced to admit that it went beyond simply not hating talking to Granger.

Yes, Draco Malfoy actually enjoyed the company of one Hermione Granger.

Here was someone who didn't appear to hate him, or at least didn't seem to mind associating with him... and that was just plain odd. He had tortured her the previous year at Malfoy Manor; that was the long and short of it. Unwillingly, under threat of a horrible and painful death, yes, but the fact of the matter was that he'd done it, and he wasn't proud of it. He wasn't proud of most of what he'd done, when it came down to it...

The point was, Hermione was the last person – well, short of Potter or Weasel – who he would have expected to act civil towards him. And yet, here they were in the library – co-existing in relative peace. It was beyond strange and extremely confusing, it made him feel this great tangled mess of emotions he had no idea how to deal with, and yet... Despite all of that, this stupid Potions assignment was the best thing that'd happened to him in years, if he was being entirely honest with himself. After all, wasn't anything that made him feel happy again a good thing?

He started somewhat at thinking that. So, Granger made him happy, did she? He couldn't deny it beat the hell out of being lonely, and it was interesting, too, seeing who got the last word in their little arguments... But was he really supposed to just take this as it came, regardless of the illogicality of it?

Well, it reminded him of last year – a place in his memory definitely better off repressed forevermore – which meant that it stirred up more bad and painful memories than anything else in his life at the moment. And there was quite enough misery in his life as it was. But yet, but yet...

He looked up as Granger marched up to his table, dumped a few more books on it and sat down to leaf through them.

"By Merlin, Granger – got enough to read, there?"

She looked up at him and shot back, "By Merlin, Malfoy – have you even read anything in the last half an hour?"

"I suppose not, since those two feet of notes over there aren't in my handwriting, or anything." Heavy sarcasm. The piece of parchment lying on the table beside him _was _scribbled over with notes that he'd written.

Seeing the parchment, she picked it up and looked it over, seeming surprised. After a while she muttered quietly, "It is _not_ two feet. It's more like a foot and a half."

Malfoy looked back down at his book, thinking, _I won that one. _The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he realised that was about as close as he'd got to smiling in years. Again, he started. This was not like him at all, these days. And then he thought, _Do the negatives really matter, when something as small as this is enough to make me happy enough to smile again?_

~oOo~

The next day was Friday and the class's assignments (or what some people evidently seemed to think would pass for them) were produced, and subsequently collected by Professor Slughorn.

Summoning a small forest's worth of parchment to his desk, he remarked chirpily to the class, "Well done, everyone – I see most of you have worked well together. I hope you've learned something and formed some new friends in the process."

Hermione almost laughed. _I'm sure I'd have learned something about Malfoy, if only I could figure him out. He's so hard to decipher! And as for making friends, well... I don't think he hates me, at least._

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__I realise the outcome of that chapter may have been more than a little bit predictable... heh. Oh well. Anyway apologies for the late update, but things are getting steadily busier for me so I can safely say that's not likely to get any better. I'm still going to try to post chapters regularly, though! :)_

_If you've trawled through all of the above (or even if you haven't; I'm not too fussy) show me how awesome you are by reviewing! :D Thanks!_

_Also, thanks to a specific one of my reviewers, you know who you are,__ who pointed out a very silly error that I have since fixed. Keep those reviews rolling in, guys! :)_


	6. Something About Mistletoe

Charming

_Chapter Six – Something About Mistletoe_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own any of this, bar the plot... but you knew that. Enjoy. :)_

~oOo~

At the end of class, Hermione asked her two best friends the usual question that followed a piece of assessment. "So, how do you think you went?"

Harry said, "All right. Ernie's almost as bad as – I mean, he's um – he's a bit like you, Hermione. He... studies hard."

Hermione only smiled at that; she knew what he meant.

"You got lucky, mate," said Ron bitterly. "I got stuck with Hannah Abbot, and all she wanted to do was gossip." He put on a high-pitched voice that actually sounded nothing like Hannah's. "Have you heard? _Apparently_, Blaise and Padma are together! I heard they were caught snogging in a broom cupboard by Daphne Greengrass, but she says they swore they were only kissing because of – something about mistletoe – oh, the Mistletoe Charm! Speaking of, have you heard about that? The Mistletoe Charm, that is. _Apparently_, Susan was telling me the other day, it's becoming all the rage nowadays – and it's supposed to be all over the Wizarding world! So funny, but _apparently_ people are casting it everywhere, even in Muggle places – for laughs, I suspect – and _apparently_ they caused a right riot when they – the Muggles, that is – started kissing! In the streets! Can you imagine? The Ministry were busy with that, or so my aunty tells me, for ages! Though I'll bet they had a right good laugh about it at the time – I know I would have!"

He dropped back to his normal voice. "I mean, honestly, the girl's a complete nightmare! She didn't even pause to take a breath, I swear she – what are you looking at?"

He scowled at some passing fourth-years before turning back to his friends. Harry was trying to muffle his chuckling with his fist, and even Hermione was visibly trying not to grin.

"Ron," she said, still smiling, "be nice. Hannah's not that bad. But did she ever explain what this Mistletoe Charm actually does?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I made the mistake of asking her that." His voice became high-pitched again as he mimicked, "I can't believe you don't know! Everybody's heard of it! The Mistletoe Charm conjures this gorgeous, sparkly, sort of glowy bunch of magical mistletoe in the air, and to get past it you have to kiss someone! Like what I heard about Blaise and Padma – _apparently_ they were stuck inside this broom cupboard 'cause there was this glowing mistletoe over the door and to get past it they had to snog! What I want to know is how come they were in the broom cupboard to begin with! Oh, it was ever so funny when I heard about it! But anyway, _apparently_ when you stand underneath this mistletoe you get frozen to the spot and the first person to come within three feet of you gets stuck too – and then you _have_ to kiss them or you both stay stuck there forever! Imagine if you got stuck under it with someone really horrible! Wouldn't that be just hilarious to see? And _apparently_ the Ministry are having lots of trouble finding a counter-charm – and since they haven't actually got one yet the only way to undo the Mistletoe is by snogging! Isn't that just droll? Hahahahaha..."

Ron trailed off as they reached the Great Hall for dinner; he seemed somewhat peeved that both his friends were clutching their sides and giggling hysterically. They sat down at their table and he added in his usual register, "It's not funny! I got so sick of her prattling by the end I would've happily Stupefied her if I wasn't sure she'd just keep babbling anyway. Merlin..."

By this time Harry and Hermione had recovered somewhat. Harry shook his head in sympathy with Ron, but the action was less than reassuring considering that he was still grinning like a loon. He turned aside and said, "What about you, Hermione? Must have sucked to be put with Malfoy."

"He didn't try anything funny, did he?" asked Ron. "I wouldn't put it past him to try a sneaky hex or something. In fact, I wouldn't put much past him." He scowled.

Hermione started; she hadn't even really thought about things like that – which was kind of odd, come to think of it. What happened to watching her back? What happened to the old Hermione? Just a few months ago on the train she'd been worried that Malfoy might jinx her when they were alone, and neither of her friends had even thought about it; now, strangely, their roles were reversed.

"Um, no... He didn't try anything at all. It wasn't at all that bad, working with him, actually..." she mused.

"Right nasty piece of work, though, inne?" said Ron, who appeared not to have heard most or all of what Hermione had said. "Don't know why they let Death Eater scum like him back in here. Hogwarts is better off without people like him."

At that point Ginny came over to the eighth years' table, and Harry got up to talk to her.

Hermione turned to Ron. "Don't you think that might be a bit harsh, Ronald?" she said rather sharply. "He might have changed, you know."

Ron's face said it all: he was simply stunned that someone as smart as Hermione would suggest something like Malfoy not being all bad. "Hermione," he said incredulously, "he hasn't changed. He can't." Again with the _'DUH'_ tone. "You do realise we're talking about _Malfoy_, right?"

Hermione frowned at him and was just about to say something more when dinner appeared. The hundreds of silver platters spread over the tables were suddenly spilling over with food... and Ron's attention was suddenly far removed from conversation. Seeing that he was beyond retrieval, Hermione sighed and helped herself to some pumpkin juice.

~oOo~

On Monday, Professor Slughorn seated the class in their pairs and handed back their assignments, saying, "On the whole, well done, class. Most of your essays were up to scratch, though there were a few..." – here he cast a significant glance at Ron and Hannah, Hermione noticed – "...that didn't quite meet the mark. Still. Most of you got at least an 'Acceptable'. You've got five minutes to look over your essays and copy down what's on the board before we start brewing Beowulf's Senility Solution; hop to it."

Hermione looked down at her and Draco's essay in front of her before unrolling the parchment just a little apprehensively. On her right, Malfoy sat, impassive and apparently uninterested.

Hermione let out a small squeak of delight and he turned slightly in his chair. "What is it? Tell me you're not going to expire from disappointment if we only got an 'Exceeds Expectations'."

"Actually I think you'll find we did a bit better than that," she bubbled happily, passing him the parchment.

He took it from her and looked down at the essay. A large red O marred the top corner of the page, accompanied by a note in Slughorn's hand. _Absolutely outstanding work! I knew I could expect great things from the both of you, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy! Keep this up and you may gain extra credit at the end of the semester! Jolly well done!_

Malfoy almost snorted at the old man's enthusiasm. Slughorn clearly had some sort of a fetish for exclamation marks. He looked up at Hermione, who was positively grinning at him. "What are you smiling at? Isn't this kind of everyday for you?"

She shrugged. "That doesn't mean I can't still take pride in my work."

"Hah! If you took any more pride in your work, your head'd be so puffed-up you wouldn't be able to walk through doorways! What a sight that'd be, Hermione Granger unable to attend class due to the size of her own ego," he almost chuckled.

Hermione laughed brightly, unable to be insulted at that moment. She said, "Draco Malfoy, I do believe that is the first time I have seen a smile on your face in years."

Malfoy started, and realised she was right – his mouth was definitely pulled up at one side, a tell-tale sign of mirth. _Mirth? _he thought, surprised._ I didn't know I still had a sense of humour._

She laughed again, gathering her books. "You might want to consider smiling more often, Draco. It really does something for you." With that she picked up her things and went to sit with Harry and Ron closer to the front of the class, leaving Malfoy with the essay in his hands and a bewildered expression on his face.

_Did she just call me Draco? _his mind gasped. _And… was that a compliment? _He just shook his head, and noted in surprise that he was smiling yet again.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__I AM SO SO SO SORRY ABOUT BEING AWAY FOR ALL THIS TIME! D: I know I've been on hiatus for a horrendously long time, and I'm truly, truly sorry. :( Unfortunately, my final year of highschool has priority over fanfiction, and it's been a bit crazy, to say the least!_

_A MASSIVE thank-you to those of you who've stuck with me this far and have been sending me wonderful reviews begging for me to continue. I hope this'll tide you over until the final few months of the year, because I don't expect to get any more writing done before then. I vow that this fic will be finished, though, so hang around and you won't be disappointed._

_If you enjoyed this somewhat sporadic update, please __leave a review__! :D And even if you didn't like it (I know there wasn't a terrible lot of substance to this chapter; it was more of an in-between point in the story, I guess) please leave one anyway. I adore your comments and feedback, good or bad, and I reply to every review I receive!_

_Thanks again for reading and I'll see you in November or December! :)_


	7. Patented Daydream Charms

Charming

_Chapter Seven – Patented Daydream Charms_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own anything you recognise; read on!_

~oOo~

The next week rolled past uneventfully for Hermione, so it was a welcome relief when Ginny approached her in the common room at the start of November.

"I've got something for you," said the redhead with a grin.

"Oh?"

"It's the solution to your History of Magic problems, remember?" Ginny reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a box only slightly bigger than her hand, tied with a golden ribbon. There was a large insignia on the side of the box, consisting of three embossed 'W's.

Hermione raised a sceptical eyebrow. "One of your brothers' products? Really? Are you sure it's safe?"

Ginny laughed and passed the box to Hermione. "Relax, it's plenty safe and besides, it works like a charm!" She giggled. "I'm just warning you though, make sure you only use one a lesson and only at the start of the lesson. You don't want to still be sitting there drooling when class is over." Giggling some more, she left with a flick of her long orange hair.

Hermione sighed in defeat and set about opening the seemingly innocuous parcel in her lap with no small sense of trepidation. _Here's hoping it doesn't explode in my face or something._ She let out an 'ahh' of comprehension as she pulled a slightly smaller box from the first one. It bore a familiar, highly coloured picture of a handsome boy and swooning girl standing on the deck of a pirate ship, along with the words 'Patented Daydream Charm'. _I remember looking at these back at the start of sixth year_, she thought._ If it works, this truly is some extraordinary magic._

"Hey Hermione, are you coming or what? You don't want to be late for class, do you?" Harry mocked playfully from just inside the portrait hole.

"Coming, coming," she called back, slipping the little box into her schoolbag as she went.

~oOo~

Hermione walked into History of Magic later with something like unease stirring in her stomach. She really felt almost guilty for planning to skip out on part of a class. Not five minutes after she sat down, however, the guilty feeling eased as she saw that about eighty percent of her classmates were already dozing off.

Watching Professor Binns out of the corner of her eye, she carefully removed the box from her schoolbag and reached inside it, pulling out two sheets of parchment. The first contained a brief disclaimer (_side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling_) and instructions, the second only the words to a spell. Reading the first quickly, Hermione glanced around the room once more before committing herself to this solution of Ginny's. Taking her wand out and holding it under the desk, she tapped the second piece of parchment and recited the incantation printed on it.

Nothing happened.

Sighing in disappointment, Hermione returned the parchment and her wand to their places. She wasn't going to try it a second time; one bout of attempted rule-breaking was enough for one day. Sighing again, she folded her arms on the desk and rested her head there. A moment later she sat up, resolving to take some parchment and a quill out of her bag and attempt to take notes after all, despite her boredom – before realising that something wasn't quite right.

Feeling slightly fuzzy somehow, she blinked a few times and looked around. The dingy old History of Magic classroom had disappeared, replaced by what seemed to be the pirate ship from the illustration on the Daydream Charm box. _So it did work after all! Wow... Fred and George really outdid themselves with this one._ Looking around some more, she found that she was sitting on what appeared to be a treasure chest. She snorted, thinking that the treasure would be much better hidden on a real pirate ship.

As she got to her feet, she realised that she was no longer wearing her school robes – instead she was clothed in a cream-coloured dress made of very light material. It was short-sleeved – in accordance with the balmy weather in the daydream, she supposed – and the skirt of it came almost to her ankles. Almost absent-mindedly, she wandered off to one side of the ship and leaned over the railing to gaze into the waters below, which were startlingly blue.

At that moment the ship seemed to pitch on a wave, and Hermione felt herself tipping uncomfortably far over the rail. Flailing, she felt her feet lose contact with the deck – and then a sudden sense of calm and safety washed over her as a pair of strong arms encircled her, grabbing her around the middle and pulling her away from danger.

Her assailant set her down lightly a metre or two back from the railing and said, "I'm sorry if I startled you. Are you alright?"

Slightly stunned, Hermione looked up at the young man. He was tall, lithe and pale, with blonde hair that fell almost in those familiar grey eyes... "Draco?" she said in surprise. He was dressed in a loose-fitting white dress shirt that hung rumpled and unbuttoned around his thin yet muscular frame, accompanied by long black pants fastened around his narrow hips by a black belt. The concern in his eyes seemed so real, and yet... "Draco, why are you in my daydream?"

Now those stormy grey pools showed only confusion. "What on earth do you mean?" he asked, not unkindly.

"I want to know what you – I mean, why – why you're..." Hermione spluttered. Of course the apparitions in her daydream wouldn't know they weren't real. They were figments of her imagination, parts of the spell. "Never mind," she amended.

"Are you sure you're okay?" the dream-Draco asked again. "You're not making a lot of sense... did I startle you that much?"

"No, no... like I said, never mind," said Hermione. "So, um, what now? Is there anyone else around?"

"It's just us," Draco said softly, and Hermione was surprised to see a quiet smile playing about his lips. "We could go and visit the bay if you'd like. It's very beautiful."

Feeling oddly at ease, Hermione acquiesced. "Sure, why not?"

He led her along the deck to the aft of the ship, where a wooden rowboat was stowed. Using what seemed to Hermione to be a very complex system of ropes and pulleys, he lowered the boat into the water before throwing a long rope ladder over the railing. Hermione made a move towards it but he stopped her, saying, "Allow me." And with that he swept her up in his arms and started carrying her toward the rail from which the ladder hung.

Alarmed at first, and then wondering at the strength of her dream-Draco in carrying her weight so effortlessly, she said, "Are you really sure this is a good idea? I think I can manage by myself... you might fall."

"It'll be fine, really," replied Draco, still smiling, "it would be my pleasure. Just hold on tightly, alright?"

Seeing the long drop from the side of the ship to the rowboat and the water below as they approached, she decided that he was probably right. Fastening her arms tightly around his neck, squeezing her eyes closed and hiding her face in his chest, she tried not to think about what would happen if Draco lost his one-handed grip on the ladder or slipped. She'd never had a head for heights, even in dreams.

But soon enough she felt him lower her gently onto one of the benches in the rowboat, and her fear disappeared. She revelled in the feel of the sea breeze blowing through her hair as Draco sent the rowboat sliding smoothly through the water, the muscles in his arms and back flexing as he worked the paddles – not that Hermione noticed that. She told herself she wasn't really paying attention.

It wasn't long before the little rowboat glided up to the crisp white sand of the beach. Draco stowed the paddles before jumping out and guiding it in the last few metres to shore, pulling the wooden boat – with Hermione still in it – several metres up the beach as though it weighed no more than a large sack of flour. He then held out his hand to her, gallantly helping her step out of the dingy.

Hermione, dimly surprised at how at ease she felt spending time with Draco like this, looked around happily. The little cove's beach stretched up from the sparkling blue-green seawater and soon gave way to palm trees and green tropical forest, presenting a perfect summery vista in every direction as far as the eye could see.

"Come with me," spoke the Slytherin. "There's something I'd like to show you."

He stretched out a hand and Hermione took it without thinking, following him complacently up the beach and into the jungle. They walked for about five minutes in comfortable silence before Hermione thought to ask, "So, where exactly are you taking me?"

Draco just smiled yet again and said, "Not much further now; we're almost there." Nearly as soon as he spoke, the trail they were following opened up into a sort of clearing at the top of a small hill. He led her to a shaded patch of grass under a couple of large palm trees, and sat down. "Look," he said, pointing, "you can see the whole bay from here. Isn't it beautiful?"

Hermione sat down close to him and leaned her head against his neck, resting a hand against his muscular chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers, steady, rhythmic and reassuring. "It's lovely," she agreed, looking out at what was admittedly a spectacular view.

Draco curled one arm around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, and Hermione sighed in contentment, closing her eyes. Everything felt _right_ somehow.

But when she opened them again it wasn't the sparkling water and tropical beach of the bay that met her eyes, nor Draco Malfoy – it was the back of a slumbering Seamus Finnigan's head and the dank and dusty History of Magic classroom. She sat up, blinking and trying to make sense of her surroundings. At that moment the school bell rang, jolting most of the rest of the class from their stupor and Professor Binns from his droning.

Hermione felt mildly disorientated as she shouldered her bag and made her way out of the classroom behind Harry and Ron. _Did I really just have a daydream about Draco? What am I supposed to make of that?_

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__Yep, I'm back and updating this story! Hope I didn't knock anyone off their chair in surprise. :P Just a note that I referenced page 114 of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ with regards to the Patented Daydream Charms, so if something in the description of those sounds like it's written by JK Rowling, it probably was, give or take a word or two. I tried to rephrase it as much as I could._

_Anyway, I'll be trying to update much more frequently now I'm out of high school, so stay tuned. You guys got a slightly longer-than-usual chapter this time so I hope that can in some way make up for the shameful neglect this story has been suffering._

_Reviews and feedback are always appreciated, and I reply to everything I get! Thanks for reading! :)_


	8. Mistletoe and Wildflowers

Charming

_Chapter Eight – Mistletoe and Wildflowers_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__The Potterverse still doesn't belong to me. Oh well._

~oOo~

Hermione was understandably a little preoccupied as she left History of Magic behind. _If only I knew how the Daydream Charm actually worked_, she thought, _then I'd be able to figure out whether Draco was a part of the spell or a part of my own imagination. The spell's got to draw off the subject's imagination in some capacity, otherwise–_

A startled cry ripped her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Harry flailing around a few metres away. He appeared to be struggling to move from the place he was standing; he was in danger of taking out a short Ravenclaw sixth-year standing directly behind him with all his thrashing about. Immediately, Hermione looked around for the cause of the disturbance, seeking a malicious spell-caster or trap of some sort. Her eyes widened as they found a sparkling object floating in the air about a metre above Harry's head.

"Stop!" she cried. "Nobody move!"

Harry froze, as did Ron and the other two-dozen or so people in the corridor. They all stared at her as though expecting further orders.

"See that above Harry's head?" said Hermione. "That looks a whole lot like the Mistletoe Charm, don't you think?"

There was a groan from her two best friends, who knew what that meant – and a giggle from someone else.

Hermione whipped around to glower at the source of the noise, the sixth-year girl standing suspiciously close behind Harry, grinning almost ruefully. She recoiled a little from the fiery Gryffindor's piercing glare. "I suppose you think this is funny?" Hermione snapped, before looking pointedly at Harry. "I'm afraid there's nothing for it. You've heard how it works."

He gaped helplessly at his friend, the reality of the situation clicking into place. "Can't you do something?"

She shook her head and Ron started forward angrily, saying, "Look, can't we just pull him out or something? The stupid curse can't be that strong–"

"Ronald, no!" said Hermione forcefully, grabbing him by the sleeve before he could take another step in Harry's direction. "If any of us get much closer we might get caught in it too, and I really don't want to think about what kind of three-way kiss we might have to endure if that happens."

Harry looked positively woeful. "Hermione, do I really have to kiss her? Is it really the only way?"

_Why does everybody always have to look to me for answers?_ thought Hermione."I can try _Finite Incantatem _but I don't think that'll work, if the rumours are true and the Ministry can't even find a solution. You'd think they'd've tried that."

The pleading look in Harry's eyes said it all. She could well imagine that he didn't want to kiss one of his many predatory fangirls, but at the same time she couldn't see another solution. Sighing, she tried ending the enchantment, but to no avail. To the Ravenclaw girl she said tersely, "And your name is...?"

The girl gulped and whispered, "Patricia." Hermione raised an eyebrow and the younger girl spluttered, slightly louder, "Patricia Cornstalk."

Hermione sniffed disdainfully and said, without taking her eyes off the girl, "Harry, hurry up and kiss this bit of pond slime so that we can get on with our lives." She paused. "And Patricia? Don't think you can try this again and escape unscathed," she hissed.

As though resigned to his fate, Harry turned to look at Patricia. A toothy smile spread over the girl's face – and then she launched herself at him. The spell broke a split second after their lips touched, and since Harry's feet were no longer rooted to the ground he toppled to the floor under the onslaught.

Seeing that the floating mistletoe had disappeared and the requirements of the spell had been met, Hermione pointed her wand and yelled, "_Stupefy!_" sending Patricia flying off Harry in a flash of red light. She landed with a muffled crash against the wall opposite Hermione, paralysed by the spell, while Harry scrambled to his feet, panting and a little pale.

Looking at the both of them and shaking her head, Hermione said, "Come on, let's go before something else happens."

"Chin up, mate," said Ron stoically. "It could've been worse. At least you didn't have to kiss anyone you really hated... she could've been a Slytherin!"

Harry only grunted, a surly and hard-done-by expression on his face as the trio marched back to the Gryffindor common room.

~oOo~

Two days later Hermione was sitting in History of Magic, again with her wand out beneath her desk and the piece of parchment with the Daydream Charm on it clutched in her other hand. Professor Binns was giving a lecture on the Second Goblin Revolution yet again, so Hermione didn't feel too bad about planning to skip out on the monotony once more – after all she knew the material back to front – and yet she was oddly nervous about sinking into another Weasley-invented daydream.

_You know what_, she thought, _I'll bet the reason Draco popped up in my daydream was because I've been running into him everywhere. At the Lake, in Harry's Pensieve, and our Potions assignment... that'll be it. Well, I haven't seen him in over a week now, so... nothing to worry about, _she told herself. And with that, she tapped the enchanted parchment and recited the words of the charm.

Moments later, she found herself standing in the middle of a large, grassy field dotted with thousands of tiny wildflowers. Golden sunlight streamed down from above, and around the edges of the field there grew dense pine forest. The scent of crushed pine needles filled the air.

Hermione turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings, as well as the fact that she was now clad in a long, elegant coat with golden-brown fur trimmings, accompanied by tight leggings and what appeared to be rather expensive boots. Her breath misted in front of her as she looked around the clearing, and yet she only felt pleasantly warm beneath her layers of (stylish) clothing.

"Hermione!" she heard a familiar voice call, and she turned to see none other than – you guessed it – Draco Malfoy striding across to her from the woods. He was wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted grey woollen coat that brought out his grey eyes spectacularly, along with a mossy green scarf – Slytherin forever, Hermione supposed.

"Draco," she said as he approached, half in surprise, half in joy at seeing him again. _Must be the Daydream Charm at work_, she told herself absent-mindedly.

He walked right up to her and took both her hands in his, smiling warmly. He pointed to the far side of the field. "I've got something set up for you over there, if you'd like to come with me...?" he invited.

"Okay." Hermione couldn't help but grin as she agreed. There was just something so wonderful about being in a place like this, magical in more than just the Wizarding sense... which, of course, had nothing whatsoever at all to do with the company. Of course.

Draco led her through the swathes of wildflowers in every colour of the rainbow to the end of the field, holding her hand all the while. Neither of them was wearing gloves – though oddly, Hermione's fingers never felt cold – and the tug of Draco's hand on her own felt somehow reassuring, tender. There, spread out on the grass, was a chequered picnic rug, complete with wicker picnic hamper sitting in the middle of it.

"Come, sit down," said Draco softly, and pulled her gently down to sit by his side. He pulled two large mugs out of the hamper, followed by a flask that steamed when he unscrewed the top. Hermione watched as he poured them each a generous quantity of hot chocolate from the flask, and was just about to pick up one of the mugs when he held up a finger to stop her. He reached inside the hamper again before depositing several large, fluffy marshmallows in each mug. Then he picked one of them up and offered it to her, a sweet, hopeful smile on his lips.

Hermione took the proffered mug and sipped. Delicious, molten, chocolatey warmth spread throughout her body and she hummed in contentment. She looked up at Draco, who was sipping from his own mug, and smiled quietly, more to herself than anything else.

He smiled angelically back at her, and her breath caught in her throat. Never had she seen him so carefree, so happy... or so beautiful. It was a happy, contented soul that looked at her through Draco's eyes, and seeing it, she couldn't help but grin wider. They sat in companionable silence for some minutes as they emptied their mugs.

"I did this for you," he said after a while, making an expansive gesture that encompassed the whole field before them.

"Oh?" replied Hermione playfully. "I'm not sure you can reasonably take credit for the natural beauty of the environment."

"No," he returned, smiling, "but for the flowers I can." He leaned backward and plucked one from the grass beside the rug, holding it up for her to see. It was tiny, blue, and delicately shaped, each one of its petals a miniscule, precise work of art. It looked incredibly fragile between his fingers. "I made it for you," he said. "I created them all. Each flower in this field, I made for you."

He held the tiny blue plant out to her and Hermione took it, wondering at the amount of spellwork that must have gone into covering the entire field in flowers. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she considered the fact that she was daydreaming, but that didn't seem to be relevant.

"Well," she said, looking up at him with eyes shining. "Thank you. It's beautiful, all of it."

He shrugged off the compliment with a smile as he looked down at her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out a hand and touched her face. Hermione couldn't help but lean her cheek slightly into his palm, feeling completely at ease... apart from the faint fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.

She looked up, deep brown eyes meeting stormy grey, and for a second she fancied he was leaning forward... She breathed in, blinked –

And found herself back in History of Magic. Hermione sat up with a start, feeling disorientated and inordinately disappointed for some reason. _It seemed so real for a while there..._

Wiping a thin line of drool from the corner of her mouth – stupid side-effects of the charm – the Gryffindor was perturbed. _That's twice in a row I've daydreamed of him_, she thought. _That's not a coincidence. And that was definitely not the Draco I know in reality... But I'm not doing it on purpose! I've got to think of something. The Daydream Charm obviously affects emotions... but me wanting to kiss him – _him!_ – is taking it a bit far. There's got to be something wrong with the charm. That's got to be it... right?_

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__That's right, another chapter, and a long one at that! Were you expecting to have to wait another few months? ;) I apologise for the severe sickly-sugary-sweetness in the daydream sequences... it seemed necessary, somehow, though it was a lot worse before I edited a lot of it out. In any case I promise to cut right down on it so I don't give you all diabetes or something. :P_

Oh, also! I recently put up another Harry Potter one-shot, titled **'Click'** so if you guys want to check that out and leave me some feedback, feel free; the link is on my profile. I'll love you for it! ;D

_So if you enjoyed this chapter, or even if you didn't, please don't hesitate to leave a review! I live off your comments, and reply to each one. I'm going to try to make Wednesday my Update Day, so if all goes to plan there should be a new chapter for you guys each week. Thanks for reading! :)_


	9. Just A Little Bit Preoccupied

Charming

_Chapter Nine – Just A Little Bit Preoccupied_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own this stuff. I'll get back to you if that changes, but don't expect to hear from me. :P_

~oOo~

Hermione found and cornered Ginny the next day, between two bookshelves in the Library.

"Ginevra Weasley," spoke Hermione, a steely expression on her face, "I have to talk to you."

Ginny looked up from the book she was perusing, and said brightly, "Oh, hello Hermione. What is it? I know it's got to be serious if you're using my name like that." She slid the book back onto the shelf and asked eagerly, "It's not boy trouble is it? Spill!"

"Not exactly," said Hermione. "More... daydream trouble."

"Oh?" Ginny raised both her eyebrows. "Go on."

Briefly, Hermione explained what had happened in her daydreams. "...but wanting to _kiss _him is taking it a bit far! I mean, I know it's probably part of the stock-standard daydream formula, but this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. He's barely a friend! I don't understand why he's the one in my daydreams in the first place – and since I don't know how the charm works I can't really guess, either. It's got to be down to the Daydream Charm itself because I know I didn't choose to be having fantasies about Draco!"

She paused for breath and Ginny took the opportunity to reply, noting at the same time Hermione's use of Malfoy's first name. _So we're on first-name terms, are we? Now is that down to these daydreams, or reality? I wonder..._

"Look, Hermione," she began, "to be honest, I'm not too clear on how the Charms work either. Fred and George don't exactly let me in on their manufacturing secrets; they keep it all between themselves. What I do know is that the guy you see in the daydream – the male lead, if you want – is pulled more or less from the mind of the user. From something George said to me once, I'm fairly sure that the charm sort of singles out the person you lust after the most, and inserts them in your daydream. I –"

"I am not lusting after Draco!"

Ginny held up her hands. "I never said that. Listen, I don't really know anything besides that the Daydream Charm works, and it works pretty well. I can't tell you why it's Malfoy in your dreams because I can't see inside your head, but I do know from what you've told me of the daydreams that the charm is working exactly the way it normally does. I would know; I was one of the first to road-test it."

"So basically you can't do or say anything that'll help."

"Basically."

"Great. Just great," the elder girl said sarcastically.

"The best advice I could give you would be to sit it out and see if it changes. It might do, who knows?" Ginny shrugged.

"But that doesn't solve anything!" cried Hermione.

"Look," said Ginny, "would you rather sit through plain old History of Magic and have Binns talk your brain out of your eyes in liquid form?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her face. "I... well, no, I suppose not. You know, it's not like I don't enjoy it, but that's got to be part of the charm, right? I mean, I didn't ask for–"

"Yes...?" prompted the redhead.

Hermione looked helplessly at her. "If I could have chosen someone to daydream about, chosen with my eyes open, it wouldn't have been Draco."

Ginny considered her carefully for a moment before asking, "So if you _could _have chosen someone in particular, who would it have been?"

Hermione was still for a long moment. The bell rang, signalling the next class; Ginny grinned and left, giving Hermione a small wave as she went. The brunette was left standing between the shelves, a lost, almost concerned expression on her face as she thought, _I don't know. If not Draco... then who?_

~oOo~

Ginny's advice didn't help in the slightest. Hermione continued to daydream of Draco, to the point where he started cropping up in her regular dreams as well. However, while her daydreams were of the highly-coloured romantic variety (Draco on the beach, Draco in the snow, Draco on a cliff-top, Draco swimming in a river, Draco everywhere and anywhere, and always spending time with her) her actual dreams were usually a little more sedate. She would find herself sitting in a class or walking down a corridor and he would be there, standing in the background with an unreadable expression on his face, almost but not quite close enough to touch.

It was a tad disconcerting, but what was she supposed to do about it? Ginny had no solution and there was no hope of changing the way the Daydream Charm worked. The most obvious thing for Hermione to do would be to stop using the Daydream Charm in History of Magic... but there were a couple of little problems with that as well.

Firstly, she'd have to actually sit through History of Magic. Not an appealing prospect.

And secondly, she'd have to give up something she enjoyed. Because Hermione couldn't deny – at least to herself, if not anyone else – that she _did _enjoy the daydreams, regardless of their subject.

_What's so bad about thinking of Draco anyway? _she asked herself. _We're not enemies anymore, right? He's just another human being, isn't he? The only thing that makes him different to the rest of us is his history... and can't people move on from the past?_

Every time her train of thought led her to that point, Hermione ended up sighing and shaking her head in defeat. The more she asked herself those questions, the more she wanted the answers, and the only person who could provide them didn't exactly seem open to conversation. In fact the only times that Hermione did see Draco in the flesh was in class or at meals, and always only from a distance – he always sat by himself and as far away from his peers as possible, remote and unreachable.

Meanwhile, while Hermione was struggling with her internal preoccupation with Draco – it couldn't be denied she was just a little fixated on the mystery of Draco Malfoy and the problems he presented – there were other wars being fought. Harry had taken to staying in the Gryffindor common room as much as he could, only emerging for classes, meals, and occasionally Quidditch – and all because of a different charm. It seemed that at least two-thirds of the school had learned how to cast the Mistletoe Charm, and this was causing problems for Harry, perhaps understandably.

"Oh, Harry, try to be a bit more cheerful," said Hermione as they walked away from the most recent episode. "Try to feel flattered that there are so many people wanting to kiss you!"

Harry's expression was like thunder. "But I don't _feel _flattered! I feel _violated_!" he cried. "If I _wanted _to snog these people you'd think I'd have let them know! I mean, they _know _I'm with Ginny, so how can they think it's okay to try and shove themselves down my throat at any opportunity?"

"I dunno, mate," said Ron, "but if it were me–"

"What _if _it were you, Ronald? What would you do?" Hermione laughed. "Show them who's boss?_ I_ think you're just jealous!"

Ron spluttered and she laughed even harder; even Harry managed a smile. Standing on her tip-toes, Hermione slung an arm over each boy's shoulder and they stumbled onwards to the Great Hall companionably, still chortling as they went.

From the shadows behind a doorway, sad, resentful grey eyes watched them go.

~oOo~

November passed slowly and turned into December, bringing with it even colder weather than usual. Snow drifts piled up around the castle and grounds, the Lake began to freeze over and the corridors became downright icy apart from where they were partially heated by small fires crackling in open braziers. Nobody lingered in the hallways anymore, which was a welcome relief for Harry as the Mistletoe Charm attacks became less frequent. Instead the students scurried quickly to their classes or their common rooms, which were heated and therefore significantly warmer.

It was lunchtime on a Friday and, unlike the rest of the school sitting warm in the Great Hall, Hermione was walking briskly back from the Library, heavy schoolbag full of books over her shoulder. The cold was no excuse to let important studying go undone, after all!

She turned the corner into yet another deserted corridor and stopped. The door to a classroom stood open a few metres away, and on the stone floor in front of the doorway lay a wand. Looking around, Hermione picked it up and looked inside the room, moving quickly inside when she spotted a pair of shoes poking out from behind a desk.

Lying prostrate on the floor was the unmoving form of one Draco Malfoy.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__A slightly shorter and less interesting chapter this time than the last couple, but I promise Chapter 10 will make up for it. ;D This next chapter is kind of what the whole fic's been leading up to, after all... :P_

_And as always, PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS. They're what keep me motivated to continue writing, and every bit of feedback is appreciated. :)_


	10. In An Empty Room

Charming

_Chapter Ten – In An Empty Room_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__I think I'm even getting over wishing I _did _own Harry Potter..._

~oOo~

Eyes wide, Hermione knelt down by Draco's side. Almost at once she realised that he'd been Stupefied, though exactly why was beyond her. Swapping his wand to her left hand, she pulled out her own, pointed it at his chest and muttered, "_Enervate_."

To her relief the effect was immediate. He stirred and groaned and tried to sit up, rubbing the back of his head where he'd probably hit it when he was attacked. "What... are you doing here?" he asked groggily.

"I could ask you the same," replied Hermione. "I was just walking past when I saw this," – she gave his wand back to him – "lying in the corridor over there." She indicated the doorway with a movement of her head, noting at the same time that the heavy wooden door had in the meantime swung silently shut, apparently of its own volition... odd. She looked back at Draco, taking in his ruffled appearance and deciding she liked it better than the ordinary Malfoy façade. "Somebody Stupefied you," she stated.

"Oh, really?" he cried in mock surprise. "I had no idea."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Do you remember anything? Do you know who it was?"

"No," he said. "I heard someone shout a spell, and I hit the floor. That's all I know."

"Are... you okay?" she asked tentatively.

There was a moment's silence in which she thought he might be considering the question, but then he stood up and walked away from her as he said, "Why do you care?"

Hermione hesitated. "Because –" _Because you're human too, and not half as untouchable as you'd like to think._ But she didn't say it, because at that moment Draco reached the door and let out a startled yelp.

Hermione leapt to her feet on reflex and was half way to him when he cried, "Why in the seven hells can't I move? I'm stuck to the spot!"

Frowning, Hermione said, "Maybe whoever Stupefied you also cast a jinx on the doorway – like a Sticking Hex or... ah!" She'd reached Draco's side and suddenly found that she, too, was unable to take another step. "Damn," she swore. "I should have thought of that. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_."

"Now what?" said the Slytherin angrily.

"Now we figure out a way to get us loose," Hermione said levelly. "Whatever the spell is, it can't be too complex because it's probably been cast by another student, not an experienced witch or wizard – hold on a second..."

She set about casting several spells intended to uncover what type of enchantment was binding them in place, but with little success. Several minutes later, Draco – who would have been impatiently tapping his foot if it weren't glued to the floor – asked, "It's not working, is it?"

Hermione lowered her wand with a sigh. "It looks that way."

Draco lifted his eyes skywards in a gesture of despair, and did a double take before swearing loudly.

"What?" Hermione asked. "What is it?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm stuck in an empty classroom and unable to move? Look at the top of the door."

Hermione looked, and paled. There, at the apex of the door, seeming to be growing through the crack between the door and the doorframe, was a plant, sparkling with magical light. Mistletoe.

"Oh."

"_Now _what are we supposed to do, huh?" Draco seemed like a caged animal, restless and a bit frantic. "Charms," he cursed under his breath. "I've always hated Charms. Shouldn't be taught in civilised places, good for nothing, always causing trouble..."

"Um," offered Hermione, her heart pounding and brain working overtime as she tried to see a different solution to the only obvious one.

"Don't you _um_ at me, Granger!" he cried, looking panicky.

"What else do you want me to do?" she shot back. "You know perfectly well what the Mistletoe Charm does and you _know_ there's only one way to undo it. Haven't you seen poor Harry having to s—"

Draco's tone went beyond icy and into the realm of bitter arctic winter when he replied, "Oh yes, I'm sure that _poor Harry _really resents all the love and attention."

"You call it love, he calls it—"

"I don't CARE what he calls it!" screamed Draco. "I don't _care_ about the stupid Savior of All That Is Good and Gryffindor! I don't give a damn about your stupid hero boyfriend! Just _get me out of here_."

Hermione's anger and frustration drained away upon hearing the pure, desolate desperation in his voice as he finished speaking. She realised that it wasn't just being trapped in a room with one of his ex-enemies that got to him, it wasn't just the fact that he knew he'd have to kiss her to get out – it was mainly the fact that he was sick to the core of constantly being controlled, of being forced to do anything and everything against his will.

She sighed as she understood, and looked up at his face. He looked so worried and fragile, and her heart went out to him.

"Come here then," she said.

He looked at her with wide, panicked eyes. "Are you sure there isn't another way? Are –"

"Honestly, you sound just like—" She stopped herself, knowing that mentioning Harry wouldn't help the situation at all. "You know that if there was another way out I would have found it by now," she amended. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to—"

"Okay, okay," he cut her off, looking away from her awkwardly. There was a pause. "Will... will it be enough to break the spell if... if we –"

"About half a second ought to do it," Hermione said, sparing him the trouble of finishing that sentence.

She watched his Adam's apple bob nervously as he swallowed before turning back to face her. She lifted her chin to look up at him – _he really is rather tall_, she noted absently, _why haven't I noticed that before_ – his lips parted as he took a deep breath in – _why am I focussing on his lips, Draco Malfoy's kind-of-perfect-if-I-can-admit-that-to-myself lips_ – he appeared to steel himself and leant forward quickly – _I've never actually kissed him in my daydreams, I wonder if – ah!_

For a fraction of a fleeting second, his lips were pressed against hers, just long enough for her to note that they were much softer and quite a lot nicer than Ron's lips – and then Draco pulled away and they staggered apart, their feet freed from the floor.

They stood there just looking at each other for a few long seconds before Draco turned and reached for the door, slamming into it with his shoulder when it didn't move straight away. Hermione watched as he cussed and tried the handle again and again, struggling to get the door to move.

"Here, let me try," offered Hermione, but when she did, the results were no different.

"Maybe it's stuck?" he said.

Hermione frowned. "The handle turns fine, though... Let's try both of us pushing it at once."

He nodded his assent and they both rammed their shoulders into the door at the same time. Hermione felt it give a little at the same time as there was a clanking noise from the other side of the door – then it slid back into place.

"Again," prompted Draco, but their second attempt met the same result as the first. A little bit of give, clanking, and the door was pushed fully closed again.

"Once more," said Hermione. "I want to see if I can get a look through the crack; maybe there's something on the other side."

Draco grunted as he threw himself at the door for the third time. "Dammit, Granger, that hurt! How many times do you expect me to—"

"It's blocked," Hermione interrupted. "It's got to be a suit of armour, I saw chainmail."

"Great. Just great. So how do we get past it?" the Slytherin whined.

Hermione blew out a breath. "I'm guessing we don't," she said. "According to _Hogwarts: A History_, all the suits of armour in the castle were enchanted by the original founders. That's some really strong, old magic, and I don't—"

She was cut off by a particularly loud expletive. "Argh! Can anything else go wrong today?" Draco began to pace, but got only a few steps before stopping mid-stride and swearing again. Cussing and muttering, he ran to the opposite side of the room, launching himself over desks and chairs as he went. Hermione was halfway through asking him what on earth he was doing when she realised: there was another set of doors across the classroom.

Which would have been wonderful, if they hadn't also refused to open.

"Have you tried _Alohomora_?" Hermione asked, and was met with a glare that said _For Merlin's sake don't insult my intelligence _as clearly as words could. "On three, then," she said, but the force of their combined weight against the door only produced the same effect as earlier – the slightest bit of give and some clanking.

Hermione sank down against the heavy wood of the door. "There must be another suit of armour behind this one," she sighed.

Draco banged his fist on the frame in frustration and added tersely, "That would explain the noise."

There was a moment's silence wherein both the room's occupants digested the fact that the only two exits were somehow blocked – before that silence was broken by a whisper from behind the door.

Immediately Draco tried to whip around, and would have succeeded were it not for the fact that his feet were unable to leave the floor. So instead of turning ninety degrees to face the wood, he overbalanced and fell painfully into Hermione's lap.

"Ow, Draco, what—" she began.

"Can we focus on the important things here?" he fumed. "Like how _my feet are stuck to the fucking floor for the second fucking time in five minutes_?"

There was a second's pause. They both craned their necks upward, and sure enough...

"Mistletoe." Draco slumped against Hermione's shoulder in defeat, which brought unwelcome thoughts to Hermione's mind of the hours they'd spent cuddled up together in her daydreams.

Fervently hoping she wasn't blushing, she cleared her throat and murmured, "Can you see that window over there?" Draco looked up instantly and she went on in hushed tones, "I think we can safely guess there's someone in the corridor behind us who's orchestrating this. They're trying to keep us here for some reason. The two doors are easily accessible from the main corridor but if whoever it is wants to get to that window to block it off, they're going to have to run around two Transfiguration rooms and up a staircase. Meaning—"

"—that we should be able to get across to the window, climb that desk and get the bloody hell out of here before they stop us," he finished for her. "The only problem being—"

"—that we have to unstick ourselves from the floor first."

"Right."

It was then they realised that they were awkwardly tangled together and uncomfortably close, almost nose-to-nose. Hermione could see every eyelash around Draco's eyes, and he could likely see every freckle on her face. She _knew_ she was blushing now.

"Um—" she said as she broke eye contact. "You—mmph!"

His mouth came crashing down on hers, her eyes were wide with surprise, and nothing mattered because his lips were _moving_, and she began to kiss him back – and then the charm released its bonds and they toppled backwards onto the floor with an _oof_. Startled grey eyes met wide brown as they both took a shaky breath in. Then Draco scrambled to his feet and ran for the window.

"Come on!" he called, and she jolted into action.

It was only a matter of seconds later that the desk was scaled, the window broken, and both panting teenagers tumbled to the floor outside. Having picked herself up, Hermione pointed her wand at the hole they'd made and muttered, "_Reparo_."

The glass fixed, she turned to Draco standing silently by her side. He seemed to be struggling with himself. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, very quietly, "Thank you."

Hermione could only watch as he bolted away. _Thank you for what?_

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__Wow. I am so, so sorry for leaving everyone hanging for this long. I mean it. (At least you got a longer-than-usual chapter this time, right? Heheh. Eheh. :S) The reason for my absence is the fact that I've started university this year, meaning I've been very, very busy. I'm on my mid-year break at the moment, but I have to go back on Monday, so there'll probably be another wait before I can get you the next chapter – and I'm really sorry about that. :/ It can't be helped, I'm afraid; uni takes up basically all of my time._

_However, I've promised I'll get this fic finished, and finish it I will. I'm aiming for having it done around the end of this year/the beginning of next, so I'll try to keep to that if I can._

_A HUGE thank you to everyone who's stuck with me and with _Charming _for this long! You guys are awesome, and your feedback is what keeps me writing this. Thank you again and see you next chapter! :)_


	11. Let It Out

Charming

_Chapter Eleven – Let It Out_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__I still don't own anything but the plot._

~oOo~

Hermione didn't speak to Draco again for a whole week after the events in the Charms classroom.

Firstly, she wasn't given the opportunity. The only times she did see him were across corridors or classrooms, and every time she caught his eye he hurriedly looked away before disappearing through the nearest exit.

Secondly, even if she had been presented with a chance, she had no idea what she'd say. _Hi Draco, we haven't spoken in a while, I don't know if you remember the last time we did – we kind of kissed and I was already preoccupied with you and now I really can't get you off my mind. So. Done that Arithmancy essay yet?_

Yeah, that would go down _so _well. And her dreams – both magical and unassisted – certainly weren't helping her state of mind. Every day and every night, Hermione was visited by a Draco Malfoy in varying degrees of shirtless-ness that seemed bent on either snogging her senseless or ignoring her completely – which was ultimately just confusing. Even when she resolved not to use the Daydream Charms any more, she spent entire lessons with her cheek resting on her hand, staring at the back of _someone's _blond head and contemplating the mystery he presented.

He still seemed so sad – as far as Hermione could tell from the glimpses she got of him – and more determined to be distant and solitary than ever. But why? Surely socialising a little would lift him out of his depression? It had seemed to, when she'd talked to him in the past...

Hermione sighed. Awkward as any encounter between them was sure to be, maybe she ought to try to scrape up the courage anyway. But... _I just don't know what to do_.

~oOo~

Granger was everywhere. For an entire week following _that day_, whenever Draco turned a corner, she was there and _looking at him_. And every time his cheeks would light up bright pink because _of course _all he could think of was the stupid Mistletoe Charm incident. _Which is idiotic because of course both of us would be better off completely forgetting that it ever happened_, he thought.

For all Draco knew, Granger had already done just that – but he couldn't. Suddenly all he could think of was how unbearably soft Granger's lips were, and how deep and huge and brown her eyes were, and the little gasp of surprise she'd made when he kissed her the second time – purely out of necessity, _of course _– and how inexplicably _nice _she'd been to him since the start of the school year.

It was all a mystery. He knew what everybody else thought of him – he heard their whispers in the hallways – but Granger... She seemed to be different.

_And that's the only reason you're such a mess about her_, he told himself. _You're stupid enough to think she doesn't hate you just because she hasn't tried to hex you yet. Her skin probably crawls every time she thinks of your filthy Slytherin lips touching hers, if she even thinks about you at all. As if she would. Nobody in the world cares about scum like you now. Why would they? You're pathetic._

So whenever he caught her eye by accident he'd look away, knowing that a worthless piece of dirt like him didn't deserve to even think about her. And when he watched her grin at Potter or Weasley, chuckling as she shared a joke with them between classes, he just fought back the prickling behind his eyes and sunk further into the shadows.

_I don't deserve anything that makes me happy_.

~oOo~

Hermione was on her way to the Library on a Friday afternoon, determined to find some book or other to distract herself with, when it happened again. Stepping briskly along the frigid corridors, she heard the quiet but unmistakable sound of sniffling.

She turned the corner and came face to face with the doors to the old Charms classroom. Cautiously, she pushed one open... and there he was, sitting on a desk, head bowed, sobbing.

"D-Draco?" she breathed.

He looked up and drew his wand instantly; it was shaking at least as badly in his hand as she remembered from the memory in Harry's Pensieve. He sniffed and tried to wipe his eyes with the sleeve on his other arm. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice shaking too.

Hermione was overwhelmed by a wave of mixed emotions. Her heart went out to the tear-stained boy standing in front of her – it was impossible for her not to feel compassion for his distress – but at the same time she felt confused and curious, as well as embarrassed about their last encounter in this very room, and a little worried by his aggressive response besides.

There was a pause while she tried to sort out her feelings and he stared at her. "Put your wand down – I just found you by accident," she finally replied.

"Am I really supposed to believe it's _coincidence_ that you keep _happening_ to find me?" Still he kept his wand pointed at her chest.

"Well," she said cautiously. "Why else would I be here?"

He said nothing for a few long moments. Then: "Why do you keep seeking me out? Are you _trying _to do my head in?" His eyes were a little clearer but his voice still trembled.

"No," Hermione said, suddenly annoyed. "If anything I'm the one who should be on edge here, considering I'm the one having the wand pointed at me!" It was true enough, but she regretted saying it the moment she spoke.

Thunderclouds seemed to roll over the Slytherin's expression. "This is because I was a Death Eater, isn't it?" he burst forth angrily.

"Of course it's not—" Hermione began, but he cut her short.

"You're just the same as the rest of them!" he cried. "That's why you're being all _nice _to me, isn't it? Trying to get under my skin so you can expose the Death Eater at Hogwarts, aren't you? Well it's not going to work, so you can run right back to your stupid scarhead boyfriend and leave me the hell alone!" He seemed to be fighting tears again, and there was a note of desperation in his voice as though he was trying to make sense of everything but barely knew what page he was on.

Hermione did her best to keep her tone level and logical. "I'm _trying _to be nice to you because you look like you need it, Death Eater or not. And—" she added quickly before he could cut her off again, "Harry is notmy boyfriend. He's with Ginny, you know that."

"Hah!" the Slytherin spat. "I'm not that stupid. I've seen you with him... the Boy Who Conquered Everything. Closer than Kneazles in mating season."

"Draco, Harry's my friend. That's all he's ever been. I mean it." _But why does that matter to you? _she wanted to add.

He looked at her for a long moment before dropping his wand. His shoulders slumped as he sat back down on the desk and he sounded tired when he said, "It makes no difference whether you're with Potter or Weasley or whoever. You can stop pretending to give a damn about me and go back to them. You're wasting your time."

Hermione considered him in silence, long enough that he looked up at her again, confused. He opened his mouth and she took a few uncertain steps towards him. "Draco... Whether you believe it or not..." She took a deep breath in and bit her lip; her next words tumbled out almost too fast to be understood. "I don't know what's going on but you just seem so miserable all the time and it doesn't make sense but I do care and you're interesting and I've been wanting to talk to you and I want to help and I _would_ if you'd just _let me_."

He blinked at her incredulously. "What?"

She took another couple of steps, stopping several metres short of the desk he sat on. "I just want to talk to you because I care, not for any other reason. Death Eater or not, you're still a person."

His eyes were very wide, and his next comment was very quiet. "I'm no more a Death Eater than you, now. Look." And he pulled the sleeve of his jumper up, exposing his left forearm.

Hermione stepped forward tentatively, and saw to her amazement that where the Dark Mark should have been – where she knew it was – there was only pale skin.

"It's gone," she said, looking up at him with astonishment written across her face.

"It faded after he was killed," said Malfoy quietly, still subdued. "After a few months you could only see the outline, and now there's nothing unless you look very closely. So I'm clean. Effectively." He turned to look at her suddenly. "But it doesn't change anything." He didn't wait for her to reply, looking away again. "People still treat me the same, if not worse. And they're right. It doesn't change what I've done." He hung his head in his hands. "I'm a horrible excuse for a human being, I... I hate myself."

"Draco." Hermione's heart was beating painfully in her chest; she was at a loss for what to do, very aware that he'd just admitted something very deep and dark to her that no-one else had heard before. She closed the remaining distance between them, sat on the desk beside him and placed her hand on his arm.

He looked up very suddenly at the contact. "Why are you...?" he whispered. "Why aren't you running away? I— for Merlin's sake, I fucking _tortured _you last year. Why are you still here?" He seemed almost afraid.

Hermione shrugged, looking at her feet. Bringing that up was confusing. "I don't know. Last year... That still hurts, but it wasn't your fault. So... forgive and forget, I guess? Look, I'm here because I know the real Draco Malfoy is there underneath that guard you're always trying to hide behind. And... I'd like to get to know him."

She sneaked a glance at him and he was spluttering. "But— I— I'm—"

"Maybe it'll help if you let it out," she suggested softly. "I'll hang around."

"Hang around?" he whispered. "In... in what way?"

Hermione felt herself beginning to blush, and focussed her gaze firmly on her shoes. "In whatever way you like." _I wish I knew what he's thinking! I can't tell if he means what I think he does._

"What—what about Weasley?" he asked.

"Ron? What about him?"

Malfoy was silent for a minute, examining his own shoes. "Or whoever you're with."

_Oh._ "You know we're not together anymore," she replied, understanding. "We're too different; it would never work."

"And we're not that different?" he shot back. "Hermione—" She repressed a reaction to his use of her first name and he went on, "—I'm practically your _polar opposite_."

She was beginning to have concerns for her frantically beating heart; was Draco really admitting that he _liked _her? "Are you _trying _to find an excuse to stop... whatever this is from happening?"

"No," he said. "It's just..."

"Why would you tell me all of this, just to push me away again?" she asked quietly.

He looked up then, and his eyes were shiny with tears again. "Maybe I think you deserve better. I'm not worth it. I..." he stopped again and closed his eyes, causing new tears to roll down his pale cheeks. Silence.

Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. His eyes snapped open in surprise as she wrapped her arms around him, and they sat there awkwardly for a few moments before he shifted and relaxed against her side, his head nestled against her shoulder. Slowly he reached an arm around her, too, and screwed his eyes shut as he sobbed. They stayed like that until Draco had cried himself out.

"Bit better now?" Hermione asked gently, making no move to shift away from him.

He nodded against her collarbone. After a pause he spoke, his voice still slightly thick from crying. "It's just... it's always been hard. And now I've got no-one anymore, not even my parents... I just feel stupid and helpless and worthless all the time. And alone."

Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, sensing how hard it must be for him to say that. Her breath ruffled his hair gently as she said, "You don't have to be alone, Draco. I can be there for you, if only you'll let me in."

"Aren't you worried about what everyone else will think?" he asked quietly.

"No," said Hermione simply. "I'm not."

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__OH MY GOODNESS SO MUCH ANGST! Sorry about that... it was sort of necessary, though. Draco is a bit broken, after all. He'll take a while to heal._

_Also! UPDATE, YES! :D And we're nearing the end now, finally, and a lot sooner than I thought we would! (Thank goodness for long weekends.) I have one more chapter to write, but I could technically leave it here if you guys wanted me to._

_So, do you want another chapter, or rather not? (It would likely be a slightly shorter chapter since this one became so long, but still.) Please review and let me know!_

_Lastly, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! I've replied to all the ones that had reply links; to the anonymous reviews or anyone I've missed, a big thank you too. Each of your reviews makes me smile. :)_


	12. The Next Chapter

Charming

_Chapter Twelve – The Next Chapter_

~oOo~

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own anything I'm writing about, more's the pity. Also, brace yourselves: really long chapter ahead! (I may have accidentally lied last time about the next chapter being short. Whoops.)_

~oOo~

The next few days were a blur, somehow both exciting and quiet at the same time.

The light had faded by the time they left the cold Charms classroom on Friday, hand in hand because it seemed only logical after everything they'd admitted. They made it up to the eighth-year dorms without meeting anyone but Mrs Norris, who glared at them briefly before slinking off (presumably in search of a warm fire away from the frigid corridors). They'd lingered in the hallway outside the old painting of Merlin for a minute, unspeaking. Then Hermione had stood on the tips of her toes and kissed Draco softly. It was brief and warm and quiet and perfect, until the portrait chuckled and asked whether he ought to leave them alone for a while.

Saturday was spent in the quietest corner of the library, in the History section where other students rarely came. Two Transfiguration essays lay largely unfinished on the table while their would-be authors sat side by side against a bookshelf, their fingers intertwined as they talked in muted tones. Hermione spoke about her parents and what it was like finding out that she was a witch all those years ago. Draco spoke about his parents and what it was like now that they were both gone forever. He ended up curled against Hermione's shoulder again, but she kissed his brow and didn't mind.

On Sunday they wore their thickest fur-trimmed cloaks and walked around the Lake, gloved hands stuffed deep inside their pockets. Until Draco threw something that exploded in a cloud of white powder against Hermione's shoulder and they were screeching and running and pelting snowballs at each other. It ended in very warm kisses with very cold lips under a very snowy tree, which would have unburdened itself on top of them if it wasn't for a well-timed push from Draco that landed them in the next snowdrift. Hermione laughed and asked how falling in the snow was any better than being covered in it; Draco just smiled, shrugged and kissed her again.

~oOo~

Monday brought an end to the dreamlike haze that encompassed the weekend. Suddenly there were classes to attend and secrets to keep.

Harry and Ron complained Hermione hadn't helped them with their Transfiguration essay at all; she replied smartly that she had better things to do than babysit them in their N.E.W.T. year. Draco got no questions from anyone, and sat at the back of the class as though nothing had changed. He had just resigned himself to a joyless and solitary day when Hermione shot him a small smile behind her friends' backs. They would have been shocked at his answering grin.

It was clear from the beginning that their newfound trust and... well, whatever else it was, should remain secret. Neither of them felt prepared to face the scrutiny and inevitable disapproval of the rest of the school – much less that of close friends, in Hermione's case – especially in the fragile first weeks after Draco's confessions in the Charms classroom.

Ginny was the only one to raise her eyebrows when Hermione said she was going to the library at 9 o' clock in the evening for the third time in a week; Harry and Ron were too busy applying themselves to their study to notice or care. Hermione still refused to give them anything but minimal help, and looked over their homework only occasionally.

_To be fair, they're doing quite well without me_, she mused on her way out the portrait hole. _Maybe I've been babying them too much in the past_. Instead of going to the library, she directed her steps to the fourth floor, where she knew a certain quiet blonde boy was waiting for her.

They'd taken to meeting after dinner in deserted rooms, where they'd spend several hours huddled in front of roaring fireplaces, talking, laughing, doing their homework together... and kissing. They would often sit together past midnight doing one or several of these things, until one of them would come to the realisation that it was very, very past curfew. Then they'd sneak back to their tower on tip-toes, sometimes breaking into a run if they thought they'd heard Filch or Mrs Norris.

The truth of it was, they enjoyed each other's company. The only thing they never talked about was their relationship, and what exactly it was. It felt safer not to label it, as though it was too fragile to bear a title.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, it was Christmas Eve. The feast had ended about an hour since, and most students were socialising in their commonrooms. Hermione, however, was not.

She was waiting somewhat impatiently in an alcove on the fifth floor, not too far from their dorms in the West Tower, which she'd surreptitiously escaped almost half an hour ago. While the corridors ought to be fairly safe on account of almost everyone enjoying Christmastime festivities together with their friends, that same fact also made it very difficult to get out into the corridors in the first place.

It was another ten minutes before Hermione heard footsteps, but then Draco squeezed into the alcove beside her and wrapped her in his arms, and she had no choice but to let her annoyance fall away.

"You took a while," she murmured against his chest.

"I know," he replied ruefully. "Potter and Weas— sorry, _Harry and Ginny _– left a quarter of an hour after you to get sweets from the kitchens. I had to wait longer after that, it would have looked suspicious. Come on..."

He extracted himself from the cramped niche with some difficulty. Hermione followed, and he took her hand as they headed down the corridor.

He sighed. "So where would you like to go? I thought we could have gotten something hot from the kitchens, but if we're going to run into—" He broke off as Hermione put her hand on his chest. "What—?"

"Look up."

They'd stopped by a high arched window, snowflakes falling thick and fast beyond the cold glass panes. And there, growing magically from the stone arch and spreading across the ceiling, was a tangled bunch of green leaves and red berries.

"Mistletoe," he smiled. "The regular kind this time!"

"Makes a nice change, doesn't it?" she laughed back at him.

Draco chuckled and reached his arms around her waist. Brown eyes met grey and Draco took a moment to savour just how lucky he was. _I still can't believe I really have her_, he thought. _Just a few months ago I'd never have believed anyone could ever stand being around me again. Now... This is the happiest I've been since I started school. Since I can remember._

"Hermione," he said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could—

"—I love you."

There was a moment's silence and Draco's heart sank into the region of his stomach. _Oh Salazar, I've said it too soon – I've made a complete hash of it – why did I have to open my stupid mouth and just blurt it at her, I should have—_

"I love you too, Draco."

She said it so simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world, though there was a slightly breathless note in her voice that perhaps said otherwise. Draco's heart rocketed back to its usual position and did its best to swell out of his chest. He let out an involuntary half-laugh of relief before pulling her closer and kissing her soundly._ It feels good to know you're in love._

They stood there for several long moments in the middle of the corridor, wrapped in each other's embrace under the mistletoe, their lips speaking with more than words.

And that was how Harry and Ginny found them.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Harry's voice echoed through the corridor, and Hermione and Draco sprung apart as though electrocuted.

"It – it was the – the Mistletoe Charm!" gasped Draco, looking suddenly very pale. The joy that had filled him just moments before had disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving blind fear and panic in its place.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, _Malfoy_," Harry snarled sarcastically. His wand was drawn and pointing at the other boy's chest. "I didn't see the telltale sparkling mistletoe, so try again."

"It – it had just vanished!" Draco spluttered.

"Oh yeah?" said Harry angrily. "It looked like more than a quick curse-breaking peck to me! What kind of hex have you hit Hermione with?"

"Oh, Harry!" cried Ginny from just behind him. She was grinning all over her face and looked as though she might combust from happiness any moment. "Isn't it obvious what's going on?"

"No," replied Harry menacingly, "but I was _hoping _Malfoy was about to fill me in."

"I highly doubt he'd tell you now, knowing you're ready to jinx him," Ginny said in exasperation. "Haven't you been wondering why Hermione's never around after dinner anymore? They're together, can't you tell?"

Harry blinked. "Are you mad? Malfoy must have cursed you too!"

"What does it matter if they're in love, Harry?" gushed Ginny, still smiling. "Isn't a little more love in the world a good thing after everything we've all been through?"

Hermione had remained silent so far, but spoke up then. "Harry... doesn't Ginny maybe have a point?" she said quietly. "What if we _are_ in love?"

"You've been hexed. He's done something to you, you're not acting normal. You don't know what you're saying!"

"I have _not _been hexed, I know almost every counter-curse in the book!" Hermione cried. She took Draco's hand and gave a small smile. "If anything, I've been charmed."

Ginny made a small squeal of appreciation but fell silent under Harry's stare. "Hermione," he said, "listen to what you're telling me—"

"I wish _you_'d listen!" she burst out. "I didn't want to tell you like this, I knew this would be your reaction! Please believe me when I say _I am in love with Draco_. Your disbelief won't change anything, so can you please just accept that this is the truth?" She was still holding Draco's hand tightly and here was a determined fire blazing in her eyes as she accosted her friend.

"But – but – it's _Malfoy_!" Harry suddenly seemed less sure that Hermione was indeed under the influence of a spell.

"So?" spoke Ginny. "It's Hermione, too – doesn't her happiness count for anything?"

"Yes – but – he's –" Harry struggled. "This is _Malfoy _we're talking about. The same person that's been my enemy since first year! He tried to kill Dumbledore – he's a Death Eater!"

Hermione interjected swiftly. "He _was_, but not anymore. Draco's been through as much as any of us have, Harry. He's just as human as you are! Isn't he allowed to learn from his mistakes and move on?"

Harry was spluttering a little incoherently by now. "Hermione – think – think of all the times he's been horrible to us in school, hexed us and – in third year you slapped him and—"

"—called me a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach, I know." Draco spoke for the first time in minutes. His voice was quiet but steady. "I remember it well. Listen—" he cleared his throat "—as – as cliché as it sounds, I've... I've seen the error of my ways, and – I just want to live a normal life from now on, like everyone else. Is that so bad?"

"When was the last time Draco was 'horrible' to you, Harry?" Hermione added. "Has he even spoken to you since the start of this year?" She paused significantly before going on, "It's just old prejudices, that's all. You just refuse to see that Draco's not as bad as you think."

"I did kind of assume that some things were set in stone, yeah," said Harry unsteadily. "Like Malfoy being an evil Slytherin bastard forever, for one." There were a few seconds' silence in which everyone looked at him. "We're going to have some serious words about this, Hermione," he said gravely. Then he turned and marched off in the direction of the eighth-year dorms.

Hermione watched him go with trepidation, while Draco stood beside her looking very pale indeed.

Ginny, of course, didn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, he'll come around," she said confidently. "He just needs some time to get used to the idea that your new boyfriend could be a decent person after all."

Hermione regarded her with an expression of concern. She wasn't so sure. "What about Ron?" she asked worriedly.

"Well," replied Ginny, her smile slipping a little. "There is that. I might just head Harry off, try to catch up with him before he can, ah—"

"Drop the bombshell?" Draco offered blackly.

"...introduce the subject in a less-than-delicate way," finished Ginny carefully. "Don't go worrying, though," she added sternly. "I'm sure that even Ron can be made to see the light." She smiled at them both before directing her gaze at Hermione. "If anyone can convince him, it's probably me. I think I saw the good in him before you did."

And she began to jog away. She made it almost to the staircase before Hermione called out, "Wait, Ginny! Was it you with the suits of armour and the Mistletoe Charm? Outside the old Charms classroom a few weeks ago?"

The redhead only grinned at her and launched herself up the stairs.

"It was, wasn't it!" Hermione called after her. She turned to Draco, shaking her head. "Honestly."

"I think we need to talk to her about a few things," muttered the blonde.

"I think we'll probably be doing a lot of talking in the next few days," agreed Hermione somewhat grimly. "This isn't how I had it planned at all."

"You had _plans _about telling Potter you're spending time with a reformed Death Eater?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione laughed. "What, did you think I was going to take the secret with me to the grave?"

He smiled ruefully back and she continued, "Draco, I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to be able to kiss you where people can see. I didn't think it would happen this soon, but I want to be with you in the open. Loving you isn't illegal, and I don't want to treat it that way."

Draco only stared at her for a minute before muttering, "You're mad. You are utterly mad and I love you." Then he laughed and kissed her, hard.

"Well," he said breathlessly once they'd come up for air, "the coast should be clear now. Do you still want hot chocolate from the kitchens? I don't really want to go back to the West Tower at the moment."

Hermione blushed at the mention of that particular beverage, though of course Draco didn't know about the details of her daydreams. "Only if they have marshmallows in them," she answered with a smile, and led the way.

~oOo~

It was never going to be easy. They knew that and accepted it. Years later there were still people that wouldn't talk to them, but that was okay. The important ones got used to things after a few months, and the rest didn't matter.

It was never going to be perfect. They knew that and accepted it too. Draco still cried sometimes, but Hermione would sit with his head in her lap and stroke his hair and tell him that no, he was not worthless. It got better with time.

They didn't know whether or not they were going to get a fairytale ending. Nobody did. But they went on living and loving and hoping and dreaming. They dealt with the hurdles as best they could, and that was enough.

This is the story of how things got better after the war; the story of how what was broken began to heal.

This is the beginning of the next chapter.

~oOo~

_**Author's Note: **__Aaand, curtains! That's it, folks. The ending you've been waiting for, for __over two and a half years__. I started this story on January 16__th__, 2010, and I'd like to think I've come a fair way since then. It's been a great ride!_

_To my fans and my wonderful reviewers: thank you. For sticking with me, for your feedback and for your love of the Harry Potter fandom. I hope you all enjoyed my writing, and I hope you think Hermione and Draco got the ending they deserved._

_THANK YOU, READERS. KEEP BEING WONDERFUL! :)_


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